


Make them Fear You

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crowley just wants Neville to live up to his potential, Gen, Herbology Professor Crowley, Professor Crowley (Good Omens), Teacher-Student Relationship, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 20:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Crowley lands in an unknown place, what is he supposed to do? Well, when in Rome!
Relationships: Crowley (Good Omens) & Neville Longbottom
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Lorbie05's Crossover Birthday Bash





	Make them Fear You

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Lorbie05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorbie05/pseuds/Lorbie05) in the [Lorbie05s_Crossover_Birthday_Bash](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Lorbie05s_Crossover_Birthday_Bash) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> A maze

“WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE CROWLEY!”

He cursed under his breath as he struggled to set up everything before it was too late. Holy water, check. Will to live, retrieved at late notice. The front door was shaking with the force they were using. Looking at his plants one last time, he whispered, “I’ll be back, so don’t you _dare_ try to wilt.” They trembled in fear at his words.

“CROWLEY!”

Snatching up the phone, he did everything he could to focus, “Right, just need to get to.. uh..” As the door to his office busted open, he decided to just jump in, teleporting wherever he could. As long as it was far from here. Then once he touched land, he would get in contact with Aziraphale.

But something wasn’t right, and he was too late to notice it. His travel was thrown off, and his body was tossed into some rift. Crowley hit something solid, like a large beast. It seemed to make noise, like a yelp. He clenched his eyes shut as his body tumbled onto the hard ground, his bones aching in protest. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and whatever this was, it was not soft enough for his delicate hips.

Once he was still, he took in a breath of relief before opening them, dread sinking in. Where was he? Sitting up, he rubbed at his back with a groan, looking at his surroundings with a raised brow. Hedges everywhere, he could see nothing but grass and high hedges. Glancing behind him, he let out a gasp, looking over the body that laid still on the grass. He realized that he did not hit a beast, but rather a middle-aged woman.

“Uh oh.”

Hopping up onto his feet, he rushed over to her, placing his fingers on her neck to check for a pulse. She was still alive, thank Lucifer. He looked her over, trying to find some kind of identification of who she was. Reaching into her over-all pocket, he took out a long stick that had some kind of handle.

“What the bloody hell is this?” He grumbled, looking it over confused. Thinking it would be better to just put it back, he did just that. He didn’t feel like blowing up or setting off some kind of trap.

“Madam Sprout? Did you see anymore students down here?” A voice called out from further down, catching Crowley’s attention. Standing up, he called out, “Oi! We’ve got a woman down!” It was better he called out for help rather than them to find him standing over her unconscious body like a murderer.

Thundering steps came quickly his way, a large man coming into view, causing Crowley to become very intimidated. “Who are ye?” The Giant bellowed, causing him to take several steps back. He put his hands up in defense, “I-I’m Crowley, nice to meet you big boy.” 

The Giant looked him up and down before bending down to carry the woman, “Name’s Hagrid, we better take you back to Dumbledore. Yer not supposed to be here.”

“Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.”

He followed him on the way out, attempting to make conversation with him in hopes of making any kind of connection where he might be. But Hagrid was giving nothing up. A big man with big secrets, it seemed. Letting out a sigh, he ran his hands over the hedges, looking up at the dark sky. It was a very nice and quiet night.

“HE’S BACK! HE’S BACK! VOLDEMORT IS BACK!”

Or perhaps not. Seeing Hagrid stop in his tracks, he was now curious, who is this Voldemort chap? The angsty screaming voice that came outside of the maze seemed to be excited that he was back. Deciding to try connecting with the Giant once again, he cheered, “Yay! Welcome back Voldemort!” The shock on his companion’s face told him that was clearly the wrong thing to say.

* * *

“So, you say you..fell out of the sky Mr..”

Crowley smiled innocently at the elder man, “Crowley sir, Anthony J. Crowley. And yes, I was trying to run away, and I meant to teleport to somewhere familiar, but now, I’m here. Quite wild, in my opinion. I’m still not sure where here is.” He had come to the rash decision that he did not like this man. His eyes twinkled weirdly, and he looked like this philosopher he got into a fist fight with over a featherless chicken.

Dumblebore or whatever his name was seemed very cautious of him, but still attempted to be a good host, offering him tea. He accepted, though he did wish he had been offered some whiskey with it. He wouldn’t complain though.

“You say you were running, who were you running from?”

Uh oh. He realized he had slipped up, now this old man was going to think he was some kind of felon. Clearing his throat after taking a sip of tea, he looked at Dumbledore seriously, “Jehovah's Witnesses.” At the look of confusion on the other’s face, he resisted the urge to laugh, keeping his face as straight as possible. The older man unclasped his hands, his brows furrowed as he repeated his answer, “Jehovah's Witnesses?”

Crowley nodded, placing the teacup to the side, “Yes. Jehovah's Witnesses. Bloody awful group. There I was, minding my business and watering my plants, when BOOM!” Dumbledore jumped at the sudden outburst, “They broke down my mahogany door! I had no way of escape; they were closing in on me. They screamed at me in these shrill voices, and threatened me! They didn’t ask me, no, they _told_ me I was about to learn about Jehovah.”

Dumbledore nodded, listening intently to him, “And this Jehovah, is he some kind of dark wizard?”

This was hilarious, this man had absolutely _no idea_ what Jehovah's Witnesses were, and he was taking complete advantage of it. “Yes!” He cried out, pretending to shudder, “They say he came back from the dead! They buried him in a tomb and everything! No one knows how!”

The elder wizard had a realization, whispering quietly, “Horcruxes..oh dear..” Crowley had no bloody idea what those were, but they seemed to terrify this man, so he was about to roll with it. In the end, he was somehow offered a place to stay at this school, called Hogwarts. Dumbledore seemed to be the Headmaster, and he offered Crowley not only a place, but also asked him to take over Professor Sprout’s class due to his passion in plants. He would be substituting while she was in St Mungo’s, receiving treatment.

* * *

Crowley watched impassively through his shades as one of his students was clenching at his arm, cursing out. “Mr. Malfoy.” He began, staring at the blonde, watching him try to hold back the tears, “I did warn you not to touch the thorns. Perhaps if you stopped making puppy eyes at Ms. Granger, you’d be able to block the bite.”

“I-I wasn’t-“

“Oh shut it, I know your sinful thoughts, now off to the infirmary with you.” He turned away from him, heading over to the other side of the table. Ah there he was, his favorite student. Looking over his shoulder, he watched as the plant purred beneath his touch, “Very well done, Mr. Longbottom.”

Longbottom looked up at him with a shaky smile, “T-Thank you sir.” He gave him a steady pat on his shoulder before going further down the table, looking over everyone’s progress.

By the time class ended, he picked up his watering can, waving the students off, “Alright, away with you. Remember what I said, if you do not turn in your homework by next class, I’ll flame you alive.” He let the threat hang in the air before he cheerfully chimed, “Now have a good day!”

He watched them run out, the grin permanently stuck on his face as he began to water his Moly plant. It was to be the example for his sixth-year class. He looked over the beautiful white petals, “Ah, not a single spot. Perfect. Not at all like your naughty siblings. I’m glad you’ve learned from their burnings.”

“Sir?”

Looking up, he realized Longbottom had never left the class. “Ah,” He cleared his throat, placing the watering can off to the side, “Mr. Longbottom, what can I do for you?” The young boy seemed nervous, unable to meet his eyes as he shuffled around, “Uh, well you s-see sir. I wanted to ask you some advice?”

“Go for it, lad.” He hopped up to sit on his desk, looking at him expectantly. Longbottom seemed to relax once he realized Crowley wouldn’t shout at him, “W-Well. You always seem so confident. And I’m obviously..not. I wanted to know, what’s the secret?”

Crowley thought about his question, wiping his hands on his apron, “Well.. I suppose it’s because it just doesn’t matter? If someone doesn’t like me, they’re going to die anyway.” Longbottom’s eyes widened at his answer, “Because you see, Neville, mortal life is very finicky. You do all that you can to please everyone around you, but what does it matter? In the end, you’re going to die, and so are they. So why not just be happy during that time? Why not be yourself? If you spend your mortal existence bowing your head and hiding, then did you even live?”

He allowed his words to sink in, watching the young boy come to terms with what he said. Picking the Moly’s pot up, he admired the beauty of the flower, “Neville, you are a brilliant student. But you are also a fantastic wizard. You’re just as good as that Harry Potter, and obviously have more subtlety than Malfoy.”

Neville let out a chuckle, shaking his head, “I don’t think so, I feel like I’m a pitiful excuse for a wizard at times.” Crowley hopped off the desk, briskly walking over to him, “Well you’re not. You’re much better than they are, Neville. I think you know it, deep down, but you fear it. You fear others seeing your greatness.”

He placed his hand on his shoulder, “But you can’t let yourself be afraid.” Neville looked up at him, his eyes tearing up with frustration, “But _how?_ I’m always afraid!” Crowley reached up to tilt his glasses down, his yellow snake-like eyes piercing into Neville’s, “Simple. Make them afraid of _you._ ”

Neville felt the breath leave him, his chest tightening up as he grasped what his Herbology Professor was saying, “How do I do that? I don’t want to hurt anybody!” He was silenced when Crowley patted his head, “Ah, ah, I never said to hurt anyone. Just to make them afraid. There’s lots of ways you can make someone scared of you. Action doesn’t have to be taken against your foes.” 

Seeing his student was even more confused, he decided to give him a hint, “I actually wanted to speak to you about some extra credit. I’d like you to work with some Venomous Tentacula, keep it by your bedside if you can. I find them to be very helpful when you have housemates that get a little..snooping.” It was then Neville realized what he was saying, a smile forming on his lips, “Yes sir, I would love to. Thank you for this opportunity.”

“Ah, no need to thank me. Think of it as a gift, from your dear old Professor Crowley.”

It would be a gift to him as well when a certain Mr. Weasley appears in his next class, hiding his swollen and purple hand beneath his robes.


End file.
